Instinct warned him Brielle was no clinging vine, either. Hell no. She was much more dangerous. Like old dynamite wrapped around a hidden claymore, both ready to explode with the slightest touch. His groin tightened at the thought, but he pushed his desire down, determined to keep his brother’s welfare uppermost in his mind. This was the most important mission of Jack’s life. Personal. Family. If ever he needed his wits about him, it was now.
Matthew was his principal—the person he was guarding—not some stranger or paying client. His little brother, for Christ’s sake. He’d tried to talk the idiot into leaving the show. Why Matthew couldn’t see the extreme danger Meet Your Mate threw him into was beyond Jack.
High risk.
High profile.
Highly stupid.
His brother was only antagonizing this stalker. But lately, especially lately, Matthew insisted the risk was worth the chance to find his mate.
God, he hoped the poor sap was right.
Pulling in a breath, Jack fought to keep the grimace from his lips. Whoever was threatening his brother with notes to stop the show and get out or else was going to go down. Hard.
One of these women had a secret. His gaze traveled from suspect to pretty suspect. In fact, his gut was heavy with the knowledge they all had something to hide.
His attention settled on the brown-haired beauty full of fire.
Especially Brielle.
“This is your suite, Miss Bennett.” Bill ushered Brielle into the room at the top of the nearby bachelorette mansion’s gleaming, white staircase. “You have my number if you need something. Good night.”
“Thank y—”
The producer disappeared before Brielle had the chance to finish. She dropped her suitcase and closed the door. “Alone at last.”
Considering the events of the past few hours, she’d held up surprisingly well, and congratulated herself on getting through the first night.
Coming face-to-face with Dodger could’ve been a complete disaster, but instead, she’d managed to remain unrecognized. Now, if only her body understood Jack was a suspect and not to be trusted, life would be good. She sighed. Pigs will fly to the frozen south before that happens. Those damn good parts of hers were still tingling.
Well, at least her job got a little easier tonight with Matthew’s elimination of another contestant. Uncle Franco would keep an eye on Stacy, who—much to the long-legged brunette’s dismay—had been cut along with the two actresses. That left Brielle with only three women to investigate. Danni, Carla and Mandy.
Before she and the remaining hopefuls could finish their celebratory flutes of champagne, they’d bid the Anderson brothers good-bye and the producer had them carted off to their mansion for the night. On the short drive over, she recalled information from the file about the bachelorette pad. Her temporary home was a huge, two-story, twenty-room house, complete with pool, sauna and hot tub. Not small, but nowhere near the investigation stumper they’d just vacated.
Unfortunately, Uncle Franco had explained not all the rooms were under camera. None of the contestants’ rooms or bathrooms housed a device. Good for her privacy, bad for the case. Too bad. A camera might’ve caught the culprit writing the notes.
She eyed her posh room. Luxurious cherry furniture, queen-size, four-poster bed, sitting area with fireplace, private balcony, and full bath with a sunken tub and walk-in shower. Who were they expecting—the queen?
With no time to waste, Brielle started to unpack. After that, a little exploration was in order. She hoped to get into one or more of the contestant’s rooms tonight, provided they kept up the downstairs party she’d declined to join.
Quickly tossing her nightgown and undergarments in a drawer, she noticed a yellow notepad and red marker on a desk. The same kind used in the threats. Great. Were they in every room? Turning her attention back to unpacking, she hung the remainder of her meager wardrobe in the massive walk-in closet. Her clothes only took up a speck in what could pass for a small garage. She kicked off her heels and whistled. Damn. She could park her car in there with room to spare.
Shaking her head, she rushed back to the bed and unpacked her laptop and cell phone, contemplating where to stash them. The contestants weren’t allowed any contact with the outside world. That meant no laptops or phones of any kind. Bill knew she had both, but warned her to hide them.
Her gaze settled on a vent near the ceiling. That would do. She pushed a chair against the wall, climbed on and used her Swiss army knife to unscrew the vent. Dust met her hand as she felt around and decided the space was big enough. After placing the turned-off devices inside, she secured the cover and stepped down.
Finally, it was time to explore. Rubbing her palms together, she headed to the hall. This part of an investigation always intrigued Brielle. Energy warmed her blood as the challenge of finding a clue everyone else had missed rushed through her body. A quick check on the others and she’d get started.
Gripping the railing, she stared down into the opened living room and noted her three housemates lounging with wine coolers in their hands. Danni was the first to spot her; she set her cooler down, then stood.
“There you are.” The teacher smiled. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, fine, thank you.” And it would be even better if they forgot about her and carried on.
“Wow, Brielle. You’re done already? It took me two hours to unpack when I arrived,” Mandy said, placing her bottle on the table next to Danni’s.
Carla snorted. “That’s because you brought three trunks.”
“Well, that would explain it. I only had one suitcase.” Brielle smiled, and deciding she’d better play nice, headed for the steps, not wanting to raise any suspicions.
“Don’t bother coming down for our sakes. It’s been a long day and we’re beat.” Carla set her empty bottle on the coffee table with a thunk before she joined the duo already walking toward the stairs.
“So soon?” She didn’t have to feign surprise; she hadn’t expected them to turn in this early. Disappointed that searching their rooms would have to wait until the next day, she switched gears. Again. The rest of the house was now ripe for the picking. “Well, I’m going to give myself a tour and get acclimated.”
The girls nodded as they passed. “Okay, goodnight,” they echoed and disappeared into their rooms.
Three frustrating hours later, having found nothing to help the case, Brielle returned to her room and locked the door.
What a complete waste of time. Her sigh hissed into the quiet space. The only thing she’d discovered was Jack had done a great job creating a safe environment. He’d flooded the house with the latest high-tech security devices. It would be hard for the culprit to move about without leaving clues.
So why hadn’t he or she been caught yet?
Shaking her head, she retrieved her phone from the vent and walked into her bathroom. Turning the shower on for noise cover, she called her uncle.
“Hello, hun. I heard you did very well,” he said with a smile in his voice. “How’s the investigation going? Have you spotted any of the notepads?”
She snorted. “Yeah. I’ve spotted five of them so far, including the one in my room. All of the contestants have access to them.”
“That doesn’t help.” He sighed. “Have you gotten any of your hunches yet?”
She shook her head, turning to face the mirror above the sink. “Only that they’re all hiding something. And, well, I know you said you checked the crew but…”
“But what?”
“Matthew’s cameraman, Phil. Are you sure he checked out?” She chewed her lower lip.
“Yes. Honest, hun. Phil is fine. Why, what did he do?”
“Nothing.” Just a hunch. Her shoulders dropped. She was usually right. What if none of her hunches panned out on this case?
“Maybe it was just first day jitters.” His suggestion filled her with little hope. “Seriously, don’t worry about the television crew. They’re clean. So is
Jack’s crew. They’re also pulling double duty as the escorts.”
“I gathered.” She nodded, not that he could see her. “So who’s the walking barn door?”
Uncle Franco’s chuckle echoed from the phone. “That would be Jack’s right hand man, Rodriguez.”
“Good to know.”
“Did you get to talk to Matthew?”
“Yes.” She nodded to her reflection. “We had a private talk, and we’re on the same page.”
“How did your meeting go with Jack? I know you don’t like deceiving him.”
“I don’t, Uncle Franco. I hate it.” Especially since they actually had a past, even though the former Ranger was unaware. At least, he appeared not to recognize her. She frowned, unclipping her hair. “But it seemed to go well.”
Except when I almost failed his test. She’d been so close to kissing him. So damn close. She could almost taste the heat, feel the velvety glide of his tongue… Thank goodness common sense had kicked in and overridden her hormones and the memory of his hot, talented mouth.
“That’s pretty much what he told me a few minutes ago.”
Her hands stilled. “You talked to him?”
“Yes. We discuss our findings every night, so I had to question him about the new girl.”
She licked her suddenly dry lips. “What did he say about me?”
“He said you seemed all right for the moment, but he wants to feel you out further.”
The clip dropped from her fingers and clanked in the sink. “What?” Once upon a time he’d gotten a very in-depth feel of her.
“You know, talk to you some more.”
“I see.” She closed her eyes, and ordered her pulse to slow down.
“You might as well get some sleep.”
Her lids slowly opened and she sighed. “I’ll find a way to search the girls' rooms tomorrow.”
“Okay, just be careful,” her uncle warned before he hung up.
Brielle sneered at her reflection. “No involvement with anyone on this show. None.” She pointed a finger at the mirror. “Been there. Done that. Bad mistake. None,” she repeated, then turned off the shower and re-hid her phone.
Fifteen minutes later, she fell asleep to the image of smiling blue eyes and a baseball cap.
The first full day at the mansion dawned bright and sunny. Morning rays sliced through the gap in her drawn, taupe and cream curtains, and spread a glowing line across Brielle’s coordinating bedspread. She stretched and sent up a silent prayer that breakfast would keep the contestants occupied long enough to allow her to investigate their rooms.
She’d just stepped out the shower and was towel-drying her hair when a knock sounded at her door.
“Coming,” she called, slipping into her blue silk robe before opening the door.
Carla leaned against the doorframe, looking bored. Danni clutched an apron and bit her lip to keep from grinning, while Mandy held something behind her back. A frying pan? Brielle’s heartbeats quickened. The girl wasn’t stupid enough to attack her in front of the others or on camera, was she? Camera? Adrenaline cooled as her mind rejected this visit as an attack.
“Okay, what gives?” She glanced at the trio of cameramen behind the girls and tightened her sash.
“You do,” Carla spoke up, thrusting a spatula at her. “New girl gets to cook breakfast today.”
Brielle raised a brow. “Is that right?”
“Yep,” Danni and Mandy agreed, handing her the apron and pan. “I can’t wait to see what you cook up.”
The threesome ushered her down the stairs and into the kitchen without giving her a chance to get dressed. When she turned to ask them what they’d like, a deserted kitchen and swinging door met her gaze.
“Okay, western omelets it is.” She examined the contents of the massive stainless steel refrigerator, its steady hum and the ticking wall clock the only sounds to keep her company. “So much for my morning exploration.” She pulled out a green pepper and onion, and began to chop, trying her best to ignore the cameraman standing in the corner.
“Mmm…smells good in here." Mandy breezed into the room a few minutes later and dropped Brielle’s mic-pack on the table. “I brought your microphone down. Bill hates it when we forget to put them on.” She rushed to the door. “I’ve got to finish getting ready. See you in a few.” The room grew quiet upon the blonde’s departure.
Alarm bells went off in her head. The woman had just been in her room uninvited. Great. Now she had to examine her own room after breakfast all because of a stupid mic.
Not bothering to hide a sigh, Brielle set the knife down and walked to the table. “Heaven forbid the world doesn’t catch all my words of wisdom.” She rolled her eyes at the smiling cameraman, then attached the pack to her belt and microphone to her lapel. “Welcome back to cooking with Brielle. I apologize for the silence, but we were experiencing technical difficulties.”
Several uneventful minutes later, she removed the last of the omelets from the stove just as the trio of fully dressed suspects waltzed into the kitchen, along with their cameramen. At least the kitchen was huge, otherwise, a sardine can comparison would’ve been in order.
“You girls have great timing,” she said, placing the egg-filled platter on the table, next to bagels, toast and fruit.
“Yeah, we’re good.” Mandy smiled, spreading cream cheese on a bagel before loading an omelet onto her dish.
“And capable of many things.” Carla exchanged a glance with the others before reaching for a piece of fresh fruit with her red-tipped fingers.
Brielle longed to run upstairs to get dressed, but her investigative nature kicked in. Grilling the suspects through small talk could provide her with some important insight.
“Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?” She smoothed her robe over her hips before she sat on a stool.
Everyone laughed.
Loading her plate with toast, omelet and fruit, she began questioning. “Okay, you know what I do and how I got on the show. What about each of you?”
“I’m a teacher from Virginia who hopes to one day become a principal,” Danni answered first, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “I know it’s not as glamorous as these two, but I’m happy.”
Brielle took in the woman’s simple, white, short-sleeved blouse and tan capris and thought she appeared conservative but seasonal—like a teacher.
“I’d hardly consider Mandy’s profession glamorous. She just has to keep her hands still.” Carla smirked before a spoonful of grapefruit passed her red lips.
“A hand model is glamorous, too. There’s lights, and cameras, and sometimes I get to wear diamond rings and bracelets.” Mandy stiffened under her aqua-cashmere sweater and white jeans. “And it gets hot under those lights. When I’m done with a shoot, I have to go straight to my favorite spa in Arizona to relax. I’m looking forward to returning there when this show is over. They have the best mud-baths and massages.” She sighed and picked up her discarded bagel, her annoyance with Carla apparently forgotten.
Brielle transferred her gaze to the conflict-loving contestant. Dressed in an ivory halter-style sundress, Carla regarded her lazily. “What do you want to know, ballerina?”
Her brow rose at the dance reference. The chick was baiting her, really? Not wise. “I know you’re a porn star.”
Mandy laughed.
Carla’s gaze never left Brielle’s face, but it did narrow. “Adult film actress.”
“Sorry, my mistake.” She nodded, biting into her toast.
“I don’t see what’s so funny, Handy Mandy. Once I make enough money, I plan to open my own production company; then I can get on the other side of the camera.” Carla transferred her gaze to the blonde. “What are you going to do? Take mime lessons?”
“Oh, I always wanted to do that.” Mandy jumped off her stool to pretend she was trapped in an invisible box.
Brielle and Danni laughed outright, while Carla shook her head and continued to dig at her grapefruit. Their revelat
ions seemed to fit her assessment of their characters. Maybe Uncle Franco was right. Maybe her judgment and intuition weren’t off and her past mistake on that other show was just that—a mistake.
Confidence seeped into her shoulders and her chin lifted.
However, she wasn’t foolish. It didn’t matter how charming the women were, they were her suspects, and according to Uncle Franco, her only suspects. Still, she wondered about Jack.
Brielle sipped her juice and contemplated removing him from the list. There’d been nothing in her uncle’s notes to exclude the man. And yet, her uncle had cleared him. She trusted her uncle’s judgment; it was hers she questioned. Especially since she was attracted to the former Ranger.
Damn, her head was beginning to ache. She eyed her orange juice and wondered if it was too early to add vodka.
“That wasn’t bad, ballerina. Sorry to eat and run, but I’m out of here.” Carla slid off her chair and sauntered toward the door.
“Me, too,” Mandy exclaimed on her way out of the room, their camera-toting shadows one step behind as they left her with a mound of dishes.
She pushed thoughts of her case aside and focused on the kitchen. Expecting the third contestant to follow suit, she was pleasantly surprised when Danni started to clear the table.
“You’ll get used to them. They do that all the time.”
Working together, Brielle discussed the show with Danni and discovered just how uncomfortable the process made the teacher. The woman was semi-shy and less confrontational than the others. But sometimes, it was the quiet ones you needed to watch.
She’d just put the last of the dishes into the washer when Mandy burst into the room.
“Come on, you two,” the blonde said. “Bill’s here to tell us today’s activities.”
“Great.” Brielle glanced down at her minimal attire. “But, it’ll have to wait until I pop upstairs to get dressed.”
“Okay, but you’ll still have to walk past him to get to the stairs.” She giggled, then let the door go. The squeaking hinges echoed Brielle’s frustration.
She Does Know Jack Page 5
